


smooth operator

by redpaint



Category: In the Heights - Miranda
Genre: Bisexuality, Blow Jobs, Flirting, Frottage, M/M, Pre-Canon, Self-Discovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-05-20 07:53:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5997739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redpaint/pseuds/redpaint
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Is this how Benny gets all the girls? Crowds their space with his presence so confident and calming and making them feel like they’re the only person in the room? They are alone in the store, but right now Usnavi thinks he feels like the only person in Washington Heights, like the only guy in all of New York, like the universe is centered in the tense space between them. Wasn’t this meant to be about Vanessa?</i><br/> <br/>Benny teaches Usnavi some skills.</p>
            </blockquote>





	smooth operator

**Author's Note:**

> This is set several weeks before the events of the show, because I'm still a sucker for all the canon relationships. This is unbeta'd/unedited so all mistakes are mine!

It’s been hot, so much hotter than any other day this summer so far, and even with the sun down and a gentle wind blowing the heat in the street is suffocating. It’s not much better inside, the weak fan on the counter doing little more than stirring the muggy air and making white noise. It’s his only company inside the bodega, which has technically been closed for an hour. He should be getting home, but the dust bunny situation had been getting out of hand, so he's on his hands and knees near the back trying to corral them out from under the shelves with a broom in one hand and a dustpan in the other.

A knock against the door sets the bell hanging from it jingling, and has Usnavi standing up so fast he knocks the back of his head against the shelf. He curses, wipes the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand and moves to cup the sore spot as he makes his way to the door. He is fully prepared to tell whatever punk is out there to move along, he’s closed, but seeing Benny’s smiling face on the other side of the door stops him. He undoes the deadbolt and pokes his head out.

“Shop’s closed, did you need something?”

“I was going to head home, but I saw your lights were still on and figured I’d stop by and see if you wanted to get a beer or something. I could go for something cold.” There’s a tired sag to Benny’s shoulders, but he’s sporting the same persona of cool confidence Usnavi had seen on him this morning.

“I would love to, but there’s so much-” He waves his hand vaguely towards the back of the store, at the broom where it’s leaned up against a shelf and the various sprays sitting on the counter. “Maybe another time?” Usnavi hates the forced optimism in his voice, because both he and Benny know that he’s been busy since forever and will be busy until the day he makes it home or dies trying. Still, he says it will a small smile and hopes that Benny will understand.

“At least let me keep you company then. You know what they say about all work and no play.” Benny says, leaning up against the doorframe.

“Yeah, yeah. You just want to mooch my fan.” Usnavi replies, but opens the door wider anyways, inviting Benny inside. Benny does little to help dispel the notion; after he steps inside he positions himself right in front of the fan, loosening his tie and popping the top button on his shirt. 

There’s a few moments of comfortable silence, when the only sound that fills the store is the whirring of the fan’s motor and the honking of car horns in the distance. The heat makes everything feel slow, unhurried, and so Usnavi takes his time getting back to work. He twirls the broom between his palms as he looks back at Benny, who has rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, and is leaning with his forearms on the counter in a way that reveals the tone of his biceps through the fabric.

Usnavi has to turn and put his mind back to the task at hand, back to that one dustball that he has cornered between a magazine stand and the wall. The satisfaction of the kill is cut by Benny’s voice coming from behind him. “Have you been talking to Vanessa at all?”

Usnavi resolutely doesn’t turn around to answer, because he knows how sheepish he is going to look if he does. Instead, he sweeps at the baseboards with determination and says, “A little. I think I’m gonna try and ask her out soon.” Benny laughs, and it makes Usnavi’s heart sink, just a little, knowing that his friend has that little faith in him. “Hey, not everyone can be a smooth talker,” Usnavi says, defensive.

“In order to be a smooth talker you would actually have to talk to the girl you’re after. I know it sounds frightening but-” Benny has to stop short to dodge the rag Usnavi throws at his head. It misses by nearly a foot, hitting the wall and falling limply to the floor, and they look at each other for a moment before they’re both laughing, probably harder than the situation calls for but Usnavi can’t deny how good it feels at the end of such a long day.

He glances between Benny, who is struggling to even out his breathing, and the broom in his hand, and decides that he can be done for the night. He slowly gathers the cleaning supplies and returns them to their home in the back. On his way back towards the counter, he stops to pull out two beers from one of the fridges. The shock of the cold raises instant goosebumps on his skin, which stick around even as he makes his way back to the front and passes Benny a bottle over the chipped countertop.

Benny looks up as if to protest, but Usnavi waves his hand dismissively. “I’ll put it on your tab,” he says, in a way that makes it very clear that he won’t. It takes a moment of digging in the drawers bursting with tags, rubber bands, and spare pens before he finds a long-neglected bottle opener, but when he does, he raises it over his head like a trophy. Benny laughs, reaches up, and snatches it from Usnavi’s grasp without much resistance. He cracks the bottles, and there is still a pleased smile on his face when he takes the first sip.

The cold of Usnavi’s own drink on his tongue is such a relief that he has to bite back an involuntary sigh. Benny is watching him with playful eyes, and Usnavi remembers where their conversation had been a few minutes ago. Though he had laughed it off, the thought of Vanessa in his store this morning, smiling but with a look that gave the impression that her mind was a million miles away, made his shoulders tense. It was the same almost every morning; he swore to himself that today would be the day he would talk to her about something other than her coffee order or what was going on at the salon, and the words would almost be out of his mouth when she gave him a smile and made for the door.

He groans and puts his head in his hands as the mornings replay themselves over in his mind. He knows that he’s being dramatic, and Benny has to be confused, but he honestly can’t think of doing anything else right now, the personal embarrassment is so great. A hand comes to rest on Usnavi’s shoulder, so gentle that he finds it in himself to peek through his fingers. Benny is looking down at him with his brows slightly knit, mouth open as though poised to speak.

Usnavi sighs and scrubs a hand over his face. “It’s this thing I have with Vanessa, I feel like a complete idiot. When she’s here I can’t get any words out and when she’s gone all I can think about are the things I could have said.”

Benny moves his hand from Usnavi’s shoulder to cup around the back of his neck and give it a friendly squeeze. “Man, you just need confidence. Let me show you.”

Before Usnavi can protest, Benny is walking around the counter in long strides. When they’re face to face, Benny pauses, eyes narrowed, biting his lip and searching Usnavi’s face like he’s a particularly hard math problem that he’s trying to solve. After a moment, he grabs Usnavi by the shoulders, pulling him in a little closer until Usnavi can feel himself have to look up to meet Benny’s eyes.

“It’s all about making her comfortable. And for that to happen, _you_ need to be comfortable. It's all in how you present yourself. Take a deep breath.” Usnavi follows Benny’s command, and feels the weight of Benny’s hands rise and fall with his shoulders. “Good. Now, listening is key. As long as you can get her talking, you don’t have to say a whole lot, just listen to what she has to say. And actually listen okay, don’t be a dick about it.”

Usnavi nods and swallows thickly, because the thumb on one of Benny’s hands is rubbing slowly on Usnavi’s shoulder blade, so slow that Usnavi could almost believe that Benny doesn’t know he’s doing it. And he’s trying to follow Benny’s advice, trying to listen, but it’s hard when that small soft drag on his back keeps inexplicably drawing his mind away from the conversation. He’s forces it out of his thoughts, focuses on what Benny’s saying, on how he’s going to get Vanessa.

“If you can ask her about things she likes, even less pressure on you. Smile man, don’t look so terrified. You can lean in if she’s on the other side of the counter, so she knows you’re interested.” Benny drops his hands from Usnavi’s shoulders, and they feel strangely weightless. Benny reaches behind Usnavi to grab his beer and take a sip, and Usnavi takes the moment’s respite to wonder at the weightless feeling of his shoulders. They feel naked without the reassuring weight on them. The thought is cut short, because Benny is leaning into his personal space like he recommended, and yeah, Usnavi can see how this works. Is this how Benny gets all the girls? Crowds their space with his presence so confident and calming and making them feel like they’re the only person in the room? They are alone in the store, but right now Usnavi thinks he feels like the only person in Washington Heights, like the only guy in all of New York, like the universe is centered in the tense space between them. Wasn’t this meant to be about Vanessa?

He needs focus on the conversation but it’s hard to look up; Benny is so close that he’s practically on top of him. It’s infuriating, Benny doesn’t even seem to notice how close they are, still talking easily, forming words with a half-smile, words that Usnavi can’t exactly focus on because all he sees is Benny’s mouth shining under the harsh fluorescents from remnants of beer and if Benny brings that bottle to his lips again Usnavi thinks he might pass out.

There’s a hand at his elbow.

“Are you alright? Do you need to-” _Fuck it,_ Usnavi thinks, and closes the space between them, pushing up on his toes to meet Benny’s mouth with his own, and it’s cool from the drink, the only thing that’s not hot in their corner of the world right now. Benny’s hand tightens on his shoulder in shock, but then moves to get a better grip, until there’s another hand on Usnavi’s ribs pulling him closer. Usnavi’s hands dance in the air, looking for something to hang onto but too caught up in the slide of Benny’s tongue against his own to do anything but whine and wonder why he never thought about doing this before.

Benny’s moving, shifting their position until he has Usnavi pinned to the counter at his hips, and on instinct Usnavi’s arms wrap around Benny’s waist, which gives his body a measure of support but also manages to make him feel even more like one of the neighborhood girls than before. The thing is, with the way Benny is kissing under his jaw, lips soft against the stubble, Usnavi doesn’t think he minds so much. It’s nice, being overwhelmed by Benny’s charm and the broad heat of his body, not having to worry about being cool or impressive or having the right words to say.

Usnavi pulls at the back of Benny’s shirt until it comes free from his pants and Usnavi can run a hand beneath it and over the smooth skin of Benny’s back, drag a thumb up the line of his spine as far as he can. Benny exhales hard against Usnavi’s neck, half a sigh and half a laugh. “You sure about this?” Benny says, his voice serious despite how breathless he sounds.

Usnavi smiles and kisses Benny hard, sucks on his bottom lip and moves his hands to untuck the front of Benny’s shirt as well. “I’m sure.” Usnavi says, because if he ever had doubts he doesn’t now, not with the skin of Benny’s stomach slightly sweat-damp under his fingertips and his own heart beating so hard he can feel it in his ears. “Maybe somewhere not so public though.”

Despite everything, Usnavi is too aware that they are standing behind the counter in his brightly lit bodega where anyone could see, and he knows that when people talk, they _talk._ “There’s a back room, come on.” He slips out from between Benny and the counter and starts making his way to the back as quickly as he can, throwing glances over his shoulder to see if Benny is following. Benny shakes his head and smiles before he catches up to Usnavi, crowding him against the door while he fishes the key out of his pocket. Usnavi thinks to protest, or grind back, but then the door is giving way and he is pulling Benny in by his tie like this is a romance novel and he’s the heroine.

The room is more like a closet, and between the cases of soda against the wall and desk there is barely room for the two of them but there’s a door and Benny’s hands are back on Usnavi’s hips and he really can’t worry about the space right now. “Chair-” Usnavi says between kisses, “There’s a chair in here.”

Benny pulls back and tilts his head, obviously not following Usnavi’s train of thought. Usnavi barks a laugh and reaches behind Benny to pull the chair out from under the desk. Benny makes to get out of the way, but Usnavi puts a hand on his shoulder and eases him down into it. When he’s settled, Usnavi follows so that they’re chest to chest, with him straddling Benny’s lap, their mouths open and panting into each other just millimeters apart, not kissing, just assessing their position and taking in each other’s closeness.

“It’s too hot to be wearing so many clothes.” Benny says, and Usnavi can’t agree more. He goes for Benny’s tie, but the knot is stubborn under his fingers. Benny smiles and undoes it himself with one hand while the other pushes the hat off Usnavi’s head. Usnavi whines indignantly but busies himself with the buttons on his shirt, pushes it off his shoulders and lets it join his hat on the floor, his undershirt landing there not long after. Benny, for his part, has thrown his shirt and tie back onto the desk and is now pulling at Usnavi’s belt with remarkable enthusiasm.

It’s hard not to push up into Benny’s touch when his hands are _so close,_ but he’s made quick work of the buckle, and then Usnavi’s zipper and boxers are a mere afterthought, pushed out of the way at his thighs and Benny’s hand is on him, firm and surprising in its confidence. Usnavi has to lean his forehead on Benny’s shoulder and just breathe as Benny strokes him in slow, deliberate movements.

It’s not the best angle, and the friction is too dry to be truly satisfying, but the feeling of a wide, calloused hand on his cock- as opposed to his own or the soft, slim fingers of girlfriends past- pushes all the complaints from Usnavi’s mind. It’s intoxicating simply by virtue of its novelty, but even more so because Benny’s other hand is stroking softly over the bare skin of Usnavi’s back, and Benny is sighing into his ear at irregular intervals, like he’s the one with a hand on his cock instead of the other way around.

By the time Usnavi can begin to put coherent thoughts together again, he realizes that this might be a little selfish. He stops Benny’s hand with his own, punctuates it with a kiss to let him know that nothing is wrong, and stands up momentarily to kick off his pants and underwear, and toe off his socks and shoes. He crawls back onto the chair, and when he reaches for Benny’s belt, Benny’s hands are already there, pulling it through the loops and letting it slide to the floor. The sight of the leather in Benny’s hands makes Usnavi’s heart skip a beat, but _no,_ he thinks, _not now,_ because that would require talking and every word has flown out of his mind now that Benny’s pants are open and pushed down just enough to get a hand around his cock.

A shiver runs up Usnavi’s back when he assesses how out of his depth he is; he’s never even watched porn with two guys in it before. Still, something inside him wants with reckless urgency, and it has him spitting discreetly into his palm and replacing Benny’s hand with his own. The skin is hot and smooth under his fingers, the slide more familiar than he had expected, and it’s easy to pull up and slide a thumb over the head with a mix of muscle memory and instinct. Benny’s hips buck, pushing his cock up through the tight coil of Usnavi’s fingers, and the resulting sound is obscene and wet in the quiet of the office.

Benny whispers a quiet _fuck_ in between laying open-mouthed kisses down Usnavi’s neck and onto his shoulder, follows it up by pulling the thin, soft skin over Usnavi’s collarbone between his teeth and sucking softly. It feels good, so much better than it should for such a distinctly non-sexual area of Usnavi’s body, and it leaves him whining into the crook of Benny’s neck. He must involuntarily tighten his hand at the feeling, because Benny releases his fast-bruising skin to moan into Usnavi’s sternum. It’s a perfect feedback loop, each new movement and each new inch of explored skin pushing them both until Usnavi feels like he’s going to snap. When he goes to grip Benny’s arm with his free hand for extra support, he can feel the tension coiled in his bicep.

Usnavi hazards a glance down, and the sight of the head of Benny’s cock slipping through the space between his forefinger and thumb makes him grip Benny’s arm tighter. There’s precome gathering at the tip, and Usnavi brushes it aside with his thumb, a habit from if he was doing it to himself, but it takes Benny by surprise. He gasps, pushing his hips up into the feeling and briefly letting his head fall back over the back of the chair, exposing the shiny line of his throat. Usnavi wants to lean forward and taste it, but Benny is sitting back up abruptly and batting Usnavi’s hand away.

There’s a sudden drop in Usnavi’s stomach. Did he do something wrong, did he cross some unspoken boundary or break a rule that he didn’t know about? He swallows hard and moves to untangle his arms and legs from Benny, but one of Benny’s hands is quick around his back and the other is grabbing his forearm. Usnavi forces himself to look into Benny’s eyes, which are devoid of any discomfort or anger, simply hot and somewhat unfocused. “Wait,” he whispers, and takes the hand off Usnavi’s arm.

Usnavi is speechless, scrambling for something to say, but Benny doesn’t seem to notice; instead, he licks his palm slow, uses the hand on Usnavi’s back to pull him even closer, if that were even possible, and to stroke them both together in one large hand. It’s Usnavi’s turn to be surprised, caught between the firm pressure of Benny’s hand and the slick slide of his cock, he chokes, too overwhelmed to even moan. Benny, it seems, has no such issue; Usnavi can feel Benny’s lips vibrating on his when they meet each other halfway, frantic and messy.

He thrusts his hips tentatively, but even the small motion sends a wave of pleasure down to his toes, has Benny exhaling heavily into his mouth. His breathing grows shallower as Benny squeezes tight around them and picks up a slow, purposeful rhythm. They’re sharing air, the space between them sticky with sweat that lets Usnavi’s thighs slide against Benny’s. He has to grab the back of the chair with one hand and Benny’s shoulder with the other just to keep himself upright. The hand on Usnavi’s back stays him as well, caging him into the chair. The muscles of his thighs are at once tight and melting with the feeling of Benny's cock against his, the teasing slide slowly driving him out of his mind.

He wants to tell Benny _more,_ can feel the _please, please, please,_ forming on his tongue but he has no idea what he is asking for, and so he just whines, pathetic and completely undone. “Yeah?” Benny breathes, and Usnavi can hear that this is getting to him too, is making his voice scrape deep into his lower register.

Usnavi desperately wants to reply, wants to tell Benny how good this is but nothing comes to mind but begging, so instead he bites down on his own lower lip and nods, quick and jerky, whining again, this time drawing it out over a few seconds and hoping it makes for an answer. In response, Benny speeds his hand, building to a pace that seems designed to get the both of them off as quickly as possible. Usnavi can’t argue with it, if this goes on much longer he thinks he may pass out from the way the pleasure seems to knot around his throat and stop his breathing. Without thinking, he presses up into Benny’s grip, messing up the rhythm but he doesn’t care because he’s so goddamn close, can feel it creeping in low in his stomach.

His hand tenses on Benny’s shoulder, and he only has a moment to wonder if it will bruise and feel bad before he’s coming in hot streaks over Benny’s hand and cock, an obscene addition to the spit and sweat between them. Usnavi’s come rolls over Benny’s fingers, but he doesn’t seem to care, gently stroking Usnavi’s cock before letting him go and gripping himself firmly, clearly eager to join Usnavi in the afterglow.

Usnavi is so boneless, so uninhibited in the wake of his orgasm that it feels like the natural thing to do to take Benny’s hand from his back and slide off of the chair and onto the floor, the relative coolness of the linoleum a relief against his hot skin. Benny is still fucking into his own fist, movements growing erratic and staccato, and Usnavi can hear rambling above him, “You don’t have to, you don’t - god, you look so good.” And Benny’s right, he doesn’t have to, but Benny’s cock is mere inches from his face and he’s overcome with an absurd desire to taste.

He doesn’t get much of an opportunity, by the time he leans forward and captures the head of Benny’s cock in his mouth, licks over it once with the flat of his tongue, Benny is grabbing at his hair and his mouth is flooded with bitter heat. He’s unsure of what to do; he swallows half of it on accident, and some escapes over his chin and he rubs at it with his arm, but it seems to do nothing but spread the mess. He thinks he might try and find a spare paper towel somewhere, but then Benny is hauling him up by the arms, pulling him back into his lap and kissing him softer than he had before, disregarding the sticky disaster on Usnavi’s face. It’s soothing; Usnavi hadn’t had time to think about what would come after, but he thinks this is certainly nice, wrapped up in Benny’s arms and leaning against his chest as he peppers Usnavi’s face with kisses.

When they’ve both caught their breath, Usnavi has to laugh to himself. Benny makes a quizzical sound in his throat, and Usnavi looks up at him with a slow, lazy grin. “That was the first time I’ve ever, y’know, with a guy. Though I guess you could probably tell.” Usnavi forces himself to keep Benny’s eye, to keep smiling despite the uncertainty he has over how Benny will react.

To his immense relief, Benny laughs too, smiling down. “Me too.” He says it with an ease and matter-of-fact quality that contrasts wildly with the way Usnavi is setting aside his dignity to push back from Benny’s chest and gape.

“But you were so - you knew what you were doing! Bullshit, I call bullshit.” Usnavi is still smiling; tonight has been too good for anything to make him anywhere near upset, but Benny has to be fucking with him, he has to be.

“Nope. Just you. This is what I was talking about; it’s all in how you present yourself.” Benny leans in, wraps Usnavi up in another all-encompassing kiss, and Usnavi can’t help thinking that maybe one day he can do that, _have skills._ But he might need a few more lessons before then.

**Author's Note:**

> find me over on tumblr as laaurens!


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